holding on and letting go
by amillionsmiles
Summary: As far as GoGo is concerned, cats are no good. And yet she ends up being the one who brings home a stray. / GoGo-centric, with mentions of GoGo&Tadashi. One-shot.


**A/N: **Decided to take a break from fluff and ended up with..._this_.

* * *

><p>She moves off campus junior year.<p>

The apartment lies ten minutes away from the university, nestled at a busy cross-section, sandwiched among squat antique shops, red-brick buildings, and situated across the street from a sleek office building. When GoGo feels stifled by the stream of people moving under the sluggish heat, she takes her bike and just _rides._ The city has enough back-alleys and sloping streets to keep her sane, even if traffic laws are a bit of a damper.

Planning for her upcoming senior project keeps her busy at school more often than not, so she usually ends up at home around 8:00, when the sky has begun to purple with dusk.

But one day—a month after GoGo has moved in—she finishes up early and gets home mid-afternoon. And that's when she sees the cat.

She's never liked cats. This one in particular looks lean and mean, nothing like the furry plumpness of Mochi—and Mochi was ambivalent to her at best. Thinking of Mochi makes her think of Hiro, and, in turn, someone else—someone broad-shouldered and puppy-eyed.

GoGo blinks quickly, slamming the door shut on her remembrances. Some things are better left in the dust. The cat regards her coolly, resting lazily on the front step. Its gray fur looks dirty and matted, but it manages to give off a haughty air.

GoGo fishes out her keys, unnerved by the animal's flat stare. As she opens the door, she snaps, "What are _you_ looking at?" before shutting it firmly behind her.

o.O.o

The cat waits for her day after day without fail. GoGo thinks of the Maneki Neko her grandmother keeps around the house, the porcelain-white statues with their paws raised in greeting. Maybe this is a lucky omen.

Just as quickly as she thinks that, GoGo snorts. For one, this cat is clearly a stray—dirty and sly, nothing like the pristine, white-furred figurines. Secondly, the look it gives her is more assessing and cunning than inviting. It wants something from her.

And so, exhaling heavily, GoGo drops to a squat in front of the cat. "All right, what kind of game are you playing?"

No response. Not that GoGo expected any. She blows a large bubble, popping it loudly in the air before she starts to rise off her haunches, ready to call it a day. The cat surprises her by leaping to its feet, padding forward to bump its head against her knee.

GoGo tenses. She's pretty sure this is some kind of ploy, and that the cat could just as easily sink its claws into her with a purr. But when it pulls back, blinking up at her with its chartreuse eyes, GoGo stares right back.

Maybe this _isn't_ some elaborate ruse. And maybe what she's been interpreting as standoffish behavior for the past week and a half is just the cat being…cautious.

She can kind of relate. Hesitantly, GoGo reaches out. The cat meets her halfway, nudging its head into her palm, and GoGo relaxes slightly. Its fur is soft, despite its uncleanliness, and GoGo scratches behind its ears naturally, comforted by the gentle rumble that her touch elicits. She even lets a smile creep onto her face.

They stay like that, cat and girl, for a few minutes. Finally, GoGo clears her throat. "This is all you're getting out of me," she warns. "No food."

o.O.o

And yet, three days later, she brings home fish. To be fair, it's only because the market down the road was having a sale, and the woman manning the stall took one look at her and knocked off another three dollars. GoGo couldn't exactly say no to that.

The stench clings to her the whole way home, and GoGo wrinkles her nose in disgust as she finally rids herself of the offending piece of meat. The wet _slap_ it makes as it hits the pavement makes the cat perk up; it sniffs the slab curiously before digging in.

Afterwards, it slinks toward her, placing one paw on her knee as it raises its head, a pointed demand for her affection.

"Ugh, gross," grimaces GoGo, staring at the greasy paw print left behind on her leggings.

She makes a mental note to get canned food next time.

o.O.o

It becomes a routine. Come home, crack open a can of food, sit on the steps of the front porch and watch the cat eat. At least petting the cat helps GoGo think, so their relationship isn't _totally_ one-sided. And sitting cross-legged on the doorstep, watching people trickle by, gives her a much-needed break from the rigors of academics and the occasional crime-fighting when Hiro calls them in. But, overall, GoGo is aware—and a bit miffed—that the darned cat definitely has the better end of the deal.

Despite her growing fondness for the animal, she refuses to adopt it. Her life has no room for a furry creature, no matter how independent or self-sufficient it is. No matter that she already spends twelve dollars a week buying food for it. GoGo has ruled that she doesn't need any more attachments.

Yet when she arrives one afternoon and finds the porch empty, she's taken off guard. Her eyes scan the area, but no tail waves, nor do familiar greenish-yellow eyes return her gaze. A dull weight settles in the middle of her stomach. GoGo takes it and bundles it up, expelling it with the next bubble she blows. So the cat has moved on. It happens.

"Are you looking for your cat?"

"My—what?" asks GoGo, startled at being addressed. The door to the apartment complex has opened, and another girl stands on the porch. GoGo recognizes her as the inhabitant of the room at the other end of her hall.

The girl smiles, zipping up her purse. "The gray cat. It's yours, right? I let him in."

"Oh," says GoGo, recovering. "Thanks."

The girl beams. "Sure. It's really cute how you like to sit out here with him. Although he might need a bath," she says helpfully.

"Thanks," GoGo repeats dryly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

The girl waves farewell before setting off down the street. GoGo waits before she heads inside.

In the foyer, the cat lies draped over the banister. It raises its head and blinks at her as GoGo marches up to it, resting a hand on her hip. _Sneaky little devil._

"Well, you got what you wanted," she says. "Welcome to the palace."

The cat hops off, landing nimbly on its feet. GoGo rolls her eyes and starts up the stairs, determined not to give the dumb animal the satisfaction of having her look back to check its progress. Half of her hopes that it'll leave her alone.

The other half wants it to follow.

Follow it does. As GoGo cracks open the door to her apartment, the cat slips by, leaving a few of its hairs stuck to her leggings. GoGo snorts in annoyance, shutting the door behind her.

"You're home early."

GoGo freezes, her breath catching in her throat. She turns around slowly, afraid to trust her ears, her eyes, her heart.

There, at the island in the middle of the kitchen, stands Tadashi Hamada, chopping vegetables. His eyes drop to the ground, following the movement of the cat as it inspects its new surroundings.

"Who'd have thought _you'd_ be the one to bring home a stray?" chuckles Tadashi, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at her. "What happened to the whole 'cats are assholes'?"

"Turns out they're _persistent_ assholes," replies GoGo, crossing her arms and leaning back against the door. Her plastic bag of groceries swings from her wrist.

"Sure, GoGo. Don't deny it—you're secretly just a giant softie."

"Says the biggest one of them all."

"At least I'm open about it," says Tadashi, sliding the carrot pieces into a bowl and starting on a potato. "What'd I tell you? I knew you'd give in eventually," he teases.

"I have _not_ 'given in,'" splutters GoGo. "The freaking cat just…_infiltrated_ the place."

"And you haven't kicked it out. Which is basically the same as acceptance, for you."

"Not."

"Stubborn."

The two of them return their attention to the subject of the conversation, which has started to pace the tiled floors. GoGo watches it approach the refrigerator, where it stares at its reflection in the stainless steel. She shakes her head, smiling, as the cat meows—

—and the scene before her disappears.

The countertop is bare, save for the towel she used to clean it the other day. There is no cutting board laid out, no chopped vegetables. There is no pot simmering on the stove.

There is no Tadashi.

GoGo's arms drop to her side, dangling uselessly; the bag of groceries slides off her wrist, its contents making a loud rustle as they hit the floor. The realization of her momentary illusion hits her like whiplash, leaving her winded, gaping. She feels terrified, vulnerable, and alone.

Very, very alone.

The cat, seeming to sense her distress, draws closer. When GoGo makes no move to respond, it rubs up against her legs, and the gentle pressure reawakens her enough to allow her to regain control of her limbs. She scoops up the bag of groceries, walking numbly to the refrigerator and putting everything where it belongs. She pours a bowl of water and sets it on the floor. The cat's attention diverted, GoGo stumbles to her room, trying to remember how to breathe.

Muscles rigid, she shuts the door firmly. Almost immediately, her strength evaporates; she sags against its frame, and, tiring further, sinks to the floor, the wood sliding roughly against her back. GoGo stares at the carpet, thinking, _if it weren't for that stupid cat_, but her anger fades away into something flimsier, something gnawing and aching and broken.

GoGo digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, hoping they will hold back the pressure building behind her eyelids. She thinks of doors and walls and _it's been more than a year, you're going to be okay._

In the back of her mind, Tadashi's voice—earnest, gentle—asks, "What are we going to name the cat?"

She chokes down a sob.


End file.
